booster rocket succeeds from a standpoint, which is a poetic thrill tied to a tree. the tree is no strange but only lasting. it lasts, quote, "after the dog dies", but before the soon smell of flowers on the all enclosed green framework, trying to get to know. the rocket has the sense, then after falling, this is all. we refer to the news. the planet hates the edges where nothing goes. we write up symptoms or approximations. the rocket, junked, falls back. effort pushed something out, a word. space is a doctrine yet we lose many terms just by watching the rocket fall. spring is here, almost, we have pictures of what will come. rain will return for snow while flowers will gain again. the tree will embark on further tree. all this is instantaneous humid being, a hematologist, perhaps.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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